Through With You
by kirby russell
Summary: Through with him? Of course not. She would come back. All lights off except his and hers, matching fluorescent glows like those ridiculous towels in her bathroom. It called to her. Even if she couldn’t see it, she knew it existed, and that was enough.
1. Disclaimer and prologue

Disclaimer and author's note: I do not own the characters, only the ideas. The idea came after listening to "Through With You" by Maroon 5. The lyrics to that song are sprinkled throughout this story. I obviously do not own those lyrics. The song inspired me because to me, it perfectly describes the relationship I perceive between House and Cuddy. So, here is the prologue. There will be subsequent updates every few days or so. I've already written the entire story, so don't worry about late updates.

**Through With You**

Prologue

_The recorded message he'd heard a hundred times played, then the beep, then the sentence he'd bet against time and time again:_

"_I called to let you know I'm through with you." _

_Finally. He assumed she'd reach this point eventually. They all did. Though she didn't know it yet, she'd come back soon enough._

_All he had to do was wait._


	2. One

A/N: This chapter references the episode "Humpty Dumpty."

Through with you, through with you, through with you? Of course not. She would come back. All lights off except his and hers, matching fluorescent glows like those ridiculous towels in her bathroom. It called to her, he knew, the light spilling out of his glass door. Even if she couldn't see it, she knew it existed, and that was enough.

He grinned to himself, safe to let slip the defenses for a moment. She was his favorite thought nowadays. He could lift unbelieving fingers to his face and feel the pull of his lips upwards, like they were reaching for something.

He'd considered dedicating one of his newly published articles to her, just to see if he could (the reactions from the ducklings alone would be worth it); he decided against it, avoiding questions at all costs. Anything to sidestep humanity, he rationalized, but almost against his will every new sheet in his legal pad inevitably started with "To Lisa." It was his version of doodles in a high school notebook, hearts and initials symbolizing too much.

When he met her, he wanted to teach her tricks that would blow her mind. Instead, he showed her, or tried to, but was rebuffed by the scared timidity of a hero-worshiper. It was a pretty puzzle, but he always knew eventually.

He knew her secret: she was never as idealistic as the rest of them. Sure, she could fool everyone, even herself (mostly to survive the day) but every inconsistency consumed him and there was nothing left he had not pondered in empty exam rooms and abandoned rooftops. "You see the world as it is, and how it could be;" yes, he could still remember the words. How embarrassing, to almost admit admiration in front of the ex. Damn her eyes. The point remained, however, that he had her figured out. Down to the way she turned around if he called after her, he had it all catalogued.

But sometimes she would throw him a curveball. Little tricks to keep him on his toes, he knew she liked to believe. He would die before he told her the truth; he knew she hardly recognized when his blue eyes sparkled in confusion instead of mischief.

He still had the message on his mind. She finally found the stones to tell him she was never coming back. Blatant lie, of course, but it still took balls.

And yet, as he threw the ball a little too hard against the glass, all he could think was how there was nothing he could say or do to provoke her into talking to him. It had been nearly a week and she didn't show a sign of breaking. At this rate, he might actually suggest he may or may not regret whatever it was he had done to offend her. It was so hard to compromise; his entire being protested it vehemently.

That's not how this was supposed to be, after all. He idealized power, he needed validation through others' submission. He spent way too much time analyzing himself, but he hadn't come across anyone else more interesting yet.


	3. Two

A/N: recall that in the episode "Need to Know" House tells Cameron he loves her to prompt the inevitable jaw-drop in order to get a swab of her mouth for the HIV test. Apparently.

He limped in—she always thought of his limp as more of a lopsided saunter—and reached her before she pulled together a witty remark. Pushing her against the wall, he brushed dry, wanting words against her ear.

"House," she murmured, beginning to—

"Now, now, let's not fall back on formalities. You know you can't control yourself when you see me in black tie."

"Lucky for me you'll probably be dead next time I see you in anything washed."

"Unlucky for the coroner." She could feel his sneer against her neck. Tired with him, she pushed away.

"What do you want, House?" He clicked his tongue.

"Not in the mood, kitten? Fine. I have more interesting puzzles than you anyway."

He had his hand on the door when she called out in spite of herself,

"I heard you told Cameron you loved her." His eyebrows raised slightly as he calculated, then relaxed and he grinned.

"Jealousy always looks good on you. I should provoke it more often. I figured that get around eventually. I'd blame the wombat but I know the girl came to ask your advice." Cuddy hated that he was right. She came out from the protection of her desk to look at his eyes more closely. His fingers twitches but she didn't notice; he so wanted to bury his hand in her hair. Reservation and pride held fast, though; he remained tense, thinking of a provocation.

"Well, out with it woman, I have lives to save."

"Did you mean it?" She asked. His eyes begged to be closed as a sort of protection against the weary resignation in her voice. Instead, he smirked and drawled,

"You should know by now that saying I love you has nothing to do with meaning it."

All she knew to do was stand there speechless until she was alone. His words echoed, and she knew he did it on purpose, keeping a spectre near her always. On the one hand, he didn't love Cameron. But the seed of doubt had been planted—all those times she'd pretended to be asleep for hours just to hear three little words from the pillow next to her—they meant nothing?

This was a double-edged blade, but, as with everything related to House, both sides cut equally.


	4. Three

He was always stealing. Her words, mostly, from her lips to his. The words of protest felt so damn heavy on her tongue, choking her so much more than that slender hand wrapping and pulling and letting him steal the acerbic words. She knew he liked the taste of venom, swirling it around in his mouth. A fine wine should always be cherished, complimenting the bittersweet blue of her eyes just so.

Metaphors rattled in his head; he hated hearing them, a constant reminder that he might actually care. Damn her eyes, he needed to dilute the poison lest he need to be taken away on a stretcher.

"Do you remember the way we used to melt?" lowering her to his level.

"Do you remember how it felt when I touched you?" He ran a finger down her spine, somehow knowing she would arch into him so he could feel the vibration of her whimper against his chest.

"Cuz I remember _very_ well," he murmured, forcing shivers up her spine. Oh, how she wanted to scream out against him, words arranged just so to stab at his vulnerabilities. Yet she found it too easy to know exactly what to say to make him leave, too simple indeed for a problem like House. She didn't want easy, that's why she l—that's why she was attracted to him. Easy was boring, as he would most definitely say, and had, many times, before she would dangle a tantalizing clue in front of his mental nose, never satisfied with the smell of simplicity.

And then the words came out anyway, even though she never wanted to mean them.

"I used to think you were the one, House." She sighed before she could help herself, giving away more than resignation.

"Now I'm sick of thinking anything at all."

She knew him well enough to see the shift from blue to blue-grey, the smirk of predatory want to refusal to show weakness. The barrier safely up, he was free to be as cruel as he wanted, and she had no choice but to take it.


End file.
